Firefly: Broken Wings
by Nessy'sPage
Summary: Set fifteen years before The Last of Us. The Firefly have just formed and are dedicated to two thing. Freedom for the people, and a cure. They are sweeping across the United States, freeing quarantine zones. But cracks in their system begin when they try and hold one city. The firefly's are about to have their first big loss.


The Last of Us: Fireflies

Prologue

Brad still had two more bullets remaining in his revolver, but that was all he needed. He was a good shot after all; he had only wasted one of them. The other three had made their targets; they now remained in the body of two men. One of them was dead. It took two shoots to kill him, the first missed but the second bullet had passed through his neck. He had tried to shoot Brad. Brad was just quicker. He twisted to the right when he fell; his gun flew across the ground and landed at the feet of another man. But he made no effort to pick it up, the gunshot had startled him and he flew into a panic, running away. He was easy to shoot now. Once in the leg and once in the back. He now lay on the ground, screaming pain from the wounds. Blood pored through his fingers. He called out to his friend, who had hid behind an upturned desk as soon as the shooting started. He made no effort to help his injured friend, knowing if he left his position, Brad would shoot him.

Peeking around the corner he now took as cover, Brad could see the last man fumbling behind his own cover. He was loading his gun. It was some sort of assault rifle. Brad had precious seconds before he would be under fire, he quickly took the chance and decided to step out from cover and run over to the desk and shoot him pointblank. But as he took his first step towards the desk, his foe had seen him and instinctively shot the gun wildly. Bullets flew all over the place, but one had managed to hit Brad in the left arm. He fell onto his back and quickly shuffled back into hallway. The bullet had grazed him but it still bleed profusely.

Gritting through the pain, Brad tried to clear his head. He was trapped. At the end of the hall was a blocked door. The only way out was through the room. He had revolver with two shots, but going against an automatic was useless. What was he to do? He couldn't look out into the room so he tried to hear what was happening. But it was too difficult to make out anything. Back out on the street he could hear more gunfire and explosions and it muddled his hearing.

"Those were my friends you shot you mother fucker." The man yelled over the commotion.

One was still alive. He was still screaming, holding his leg as blood poured out. The man tried to stand up but he slipped on the blood and crashed to the ground again. He landed on his back, where he had been shot. He let out a yelp and resumed his yelling. It hurt Brad to hear him scream. "I did that." He thought to himself. Despite all the noise it was the yells of man in pain that scared him the most.

Brad heard gunshots. He was being fired at. Bullets hit the doorframe and wall. He covered his eyes as splinters of wood flew into the air. The man stopped shooting and Brad quickly turn around the corner and shot at the man. But he was already behind the desk and he just hit that wall. Brad got back behind cover, he glanced out the front of the room, hoping no one else would join them.

He had been in here by himself hiding when the three came in here with their own gun pointed at him, demanding he follow them. Brad had refused, telling them he wasn't part of the army. The one still alive then reported something on his radio. The battle-taking place outside briefly distracted the other two. That's when Brad had shot them.

Brad listened again, another explosion went off far away . It shook the building. Dust fell from the roof. The wailing man had died, his screams of agony no longer pieced Brad's ears. For whatever reason, the silence made Brad feel even worse.

"Out of bullet's are we." The man called out. "You can't hide there forever. Stick your head out asshole, FACE ME."

It was silent again until Brad heard some radio static. The man had remembered his communications device and was about to call someone. Without thinking Brad picked up a brick besides him, turned around the corner and ran towards the man. He threw the brick as hard as he could at the man, His head just poking above the desk he was crouching behind. He was to busy playing with the radio to notice.

"This is Squad number four, I need urgent…" The brick hit him on the side of the head. He dropped his radio and fell to the ground,. Brad ran to the desk and pointed the gun at his face. The man stumbled away from the gun and held up his hand.

"Wait!"

But it was too late; the bullet went through his skull. Blood splattered on the ground and his body limply fell. Brad let out a huge breath; he didn't realize he was holding it in. He even forgot about his left arm. The pain came back to him and he looked around on the ground for a piece of cloth to tie his arm up. The blood had soaked his sleeve. He saw the gun previously dropped. He went to go pick it up. A hand reached out and grabbed his leg; he let out a yell and kicked it away. He turned to see the wailing man. He was still alive.

"Help me." He cried. He didn't scream this time; the man probably couldn't make the effort for that. It was a quite voice, but with fear behind it. He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. The man held out his hand, it was covered with blood.

Panic flooded Brad, this man was going to die. Brad knew this; he wanted to get out of there. The dead man scared him, but as Brad looked into the man he had shot, he knew he could not leave. Brad looked at his outstretched hand and grabbed it. He got on the ground, still holding the man's hand. Brad squeezed his hand but got no response. He laid the mans head on his lap and he looked into the man's eyes as tears formed in his eyes.

"Oh God!" He gulped. He pulled something from his neck and handed it to Brad. "Please." It was a dog tag. Brad took it and read the name. _Edward Sullivan._ He looked back at the man who he now knew as Edward. Tears were pouring down his face.

"Please, take it to him." What? Take it to whom? Who was this man talking about? Brad was completely overwhelmed, he wanted to leave and get to safety, but he could not leave this man to die alone. He just couldn't. Did Edward even realize that he was talking to the man who had just shot him? It was an act of desperation, Brad realized. A horrible thought crossed Brad; it was he who shot him. It was Brad who condemned him to die. He was responsible. He shut off these thoughts. At the moment all that mattered was this man that needed him.

"I will, I'll return it. I promise." Brad said, tears were flowing from his eyes now. He had no idea who "Him" was. He had no idea how he would do it, But he could not refuse this man.

"Oh my god! This is it." Edward gulped as he started shaking in fear as Brad held his head to him. Brad refused to let go. Edward started thrashing, his legs kicking at nothing. His breathing has very heavy. His trashing slowed and eventually stopped. Edward died in Brad's arms. Even after he died Brad didn't let go. He mind was a haze. Guilt and grief riddled him. The sound of the battle in the background began to fade. The light pouring in through the open door and window was dimming. Not only now was his sleeve covered with blood but his chest and legs. It began to dry. And smell.

Time seemed to go slow for Brad as he lay there holding the body. But eventually he let go of the body. He stood up, the blood was sticky and his clothes had hardened. He had to change. He walked over to the man he had shot in the head. Only his collar was covered in blood, he didn't bleed that much. Brad began to strip him, the body was heavy and it was rather difficult work. Brad realized this man also had a dogtag. He picked it up and examined it. This one said _Martin Griggs. _He went to the last body, the man who he had shot first through the neck. He was in the center of a large puddle of blood. His tag said _Jeffrey O'Brien. _

He went back to Martin's body and finished stripping him. He got out of his clothes, the cold air shocked him but he quickly got dressed again. Martin was naked now, It felt wrong to leave him like this so Brad dressed him in his old clothes. He looked a little odd, Brad had trouble dressing him and his clothes were twisted. But at least he wasn't in the nude. Brad now wore a faded mustard yellow shirt with a grey jacket and an army vest.

He began to search the other bodies for anything. He managed to get a few rations of food, a torch, a knife and he picked up their weapons. He now had two revolvers with five bullets to share between them, He threw away the second. He also had a pistol, but it only had the one bullet, he didn't feel it was worth carrying around, but he did take the single bullet. He didn't know what type of assault rifle it was, it was very thin and could be held in one hand. But he remembered how Martin had shot it wildly, It had a heavy fire rate but also a heavy kickback. "Use both hands." Brad thought to himself.

He stared around the room he was in. It was an old office building, this room seemed to be for real-estate, most of the desk had been pushed into the hallway at the far end, blocking on exit. The remaining desk had been pushed to the sides with a few still in their original place. The front wall was just a huge glass window with a glass door to the side. It was getting dark and hard to see. He looked at the bodies on more time and left the building.

The street was empty and the building seemed to tower over Brad. It was busy here during the day; he had been walking to another part of the city when it had been attacked. He ran into the building as an army marched down the street. Some had doubled back to check the buildings. Rounding up everyone they had dragged people to the City center. He was lucky no one else checked his building. He would surly of been executed on the spot.

Brad had only shot the men out of panic, he had seen them drag other people out of buildings and shot them right there. When Martin had come in yelling at him, asking if he was part of the army, Brad was sure they would shot him as well. They got distracted for a second and Brad took the advantage. He was thinking over the situation now. He realized his mistake, at the time it seemed like they were going to kill him. But maybe they really were going to escort him away? But then he remembered he had a gun, they would have killed him for that? They would of threw him on the street and shot him in the head. It was illegal for civilians to hold a gun, not that these men were men of law. But they would of seen the gun as a threat and suspected he was part of the army. Maybe this was the only way Brad could of survived.

It didn't matter now, what was done was done. But guilt still consumed Brad. The man he held was still fresh on his mind, he could not think of anything else. He let out a big breath and headed towards the city square. He held up the dog tags as he walked, reading them again. He remembered his promise to the dying man.

"Please, take it to him."

"So, I'm to return this." Brad said to himself, he had made a promise, he had to return it, but to who. The dog tag only had a name, nothing else. How was he to return it? He looked at he other tags as well. _Edward Sullivan, Martin Griggs, Jeffrey O'Brien. _These three men had died because of him, whether he had the right to save himself and kill them or not wasn't the question, Brad felt he owed these men. He looked at the tags and decided that he would return all three to whom they belonged. He didn't know who those people were, even if there was anyone. But this was now Brad's quest.

But firstly he had to find out who they were. Their army had attacked earlier today; he guessed the easiest way to find information about them would be to join them.

It looked like Brad would have to become a firefly.


End file.
